Heaven is Short-lived

It's a good thing heaven isn't like this...

Here one week, gone the next.

Last week the effects of my second session of chemotherapy had faded almost completely away. My thinking cleared - and our Saturday night barbeque steak pizza tasted like pizza again!

This week, my third session of chemo hit me up-side the head real good.

Dani and I drove into Chicago Monday for the third installment of "the pump."

We actually spent a pleasant couple of hours in the doctor's office perusing old Newsweek and People magazines, and watching "Annie Hall" while the two-hour dose of irridium dripped in. After that, Molly attached the little red ball of medicine I get to keep in my pocket for the next four days, and then we were on our way - straight home this time, since Papa was in Chicago golfing and the three older kids were going to have to be on their own until we got back.

We did make a quick stop at Wendy's. And the burger, Biggie Fries and Frosty were fabulous... still.

But that was Monday.

By Friday I was laid out in bed, and the Wendy's Deluxe Double-stacked Cheddarburger I saw on TV - the one that almost had my mouth watering a week before - was beginning to turn my stomach.

Not only did my lips feel oily and my mouth all slimy again, but even the thought of the few foods I treasured during sessions one and two made me queasy. Now there is a whole jar of Kosher dill pickles sitting in the fridge I don't even want to think about, and bottles of "Glacier Freeze" Gatorade sitting on top that I would rather not look at.

Food tasting bad again is hard to take. Harder, I think, after a week of heaven when it had started to taste so good again.

The mental effects seemed to hit harder too. As I was about to discover.

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2011 Paul Dallgas-Frey